


Romantic Frustration

by KingJulienne



Series: Dorky Boyfriends [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Dorks, Fighting, Humor, M/M, Romance, Swearing, a bit of violence, dorky boyfriends, jeanmarco, life ruiners, marcojean - Freeform, they're ruining my life - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1366750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingJulienne/pseuds/KingJulienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorky boyfriends do dorky things. (a collection of one shots I have on another site because JeanMarco is ruining my life)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romantic Frustration

Jean grimaced at the sight of him. “Marco…”

 

He couldn’t believe how much he just  _adored_  this freckled freak, how he just seemed to be a ray of sunshine and a welcomed constant, how cuddly he could be and how understanding, how he knew just what to say even if it came out blunt and brutally honest, and always had a special smile just for Jean, not to mention his random, shameless affections that had Jean  _bursting_ with pure love.

 

Damn him. Damn. Him.  _To heaven,_ this precious fucking angel.

 

Across the distance, eyes locked on him, Marco balled his fists. “Jean…”

 

He couldn’t believe how much he loved this asshole. With his honesty, his need for Marco and Marco alone and how he just got so damn jealously selfish when it came to touching  _his_ Marco, which lead to so much fucking cuddling Marco could swoon; not to mention that his awkward and at times random affections just sent Marco’s heartbeat skyrocketing through the roof with pure unadulterated  _affection_.

 

He wanted to  _fuck him up_.

 

The final straw had been drawn and Jean and Marco turned swiftly away from their conversations on opposing ends of the courtyard—“Jean, where’re you going?”; “Um, Marco?”—the heels of their boots clomping against the pavement to a quickening rhythm the more the distance between them closed.

 

“Jean,” Marco muttered under his breath. How could one man be so damn hot?

 

“Marco,” Jean spat vehemently. How could he  _stand_  himself, with how cute he was?

 

Marco mumbled a swear. “Damn Jean.”

 

Jean cursed his name. “Fucking Marco.”

 

“Jean.”

 

“Marco.”

 

“ _Jean.”_

 

_“Marco!”_

 

Their pernicious gazes remained locked even as they broke into a mutual charge.

 

“ _Jeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!”_

 

_“Marcoooooooooooo!”_

 

Jean put on a sudden burst of speed and tackled Marco to the grass. Marco caught him on the arms but couldn’t save himself from falling back. They grappled, pulling and punching and kicking. People gathered to watch in awe and a bit of horror, most of their emotions lying in sheer confusion.

 

“I just love you so  _fucking_ much, you little shit!” Jean spat.

 

He threw a fist at Marco’s face. Marco blocked and countered with a punch of his own. Jean shoved his arm out the way with a yell.

 

“You think you’re so fucking great.” Jean grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him up. He shouted in his face, “ _Well you are, you precious angel!”_  

 

Marco’s hands snapped around Jean’s wrists as he tried to shift his weight, Jean spitting colorful love declarations at him the entire time. Marco finally flipped them so Jean’s back slammed in the grass.

 

He glared, brown eyes chockfull of fury. “I bet you think you’re the only one for me, don’t you, you bastard?” Marco asked him as Jean wriggled a wrist free to punch at him.  _“Well that’s good, dammit! I don’t need anyone else!”_  

 

“You little motherfucking shit!” Jean ground, throwing another punch, which Marco weaved out of the way, “being my goddamn ray of goddamn sunshine— _Who the fuck do you think you are?”_

 

Marco roared angrily. “You turn me on!”

 

“I wanna kiss all your damn freckles!”

 

“I wanna kiss you  _all the damn time!”_

 

_“I frickin’ love you, Marco!”_

 

_“I love you frickin’ more, Jean, you asshole!”_

 

From their fighting, dirt, grass stains, and bruises covered their clothes and bodies before five minutes had gone by.

 

Sweaty and turned on, Jean managed to get on his feet first and grabbed Marco by the front of his clothes. “I’m so damn  _hard_  right now, I can’t  _believe_  this shit.” He said, setting Marco on his feet and shaking him. He glared into his eyes, still having a tight grip on his shirt. “So you know what we’re going to do now, you shit?”

 

Marco’s eyes gleamed with a bitter understanding. “We’re gonna go do it now,  _aren’t_  we?” Marco ground out, glowering.

 

Jean grit his teeth together and his eyes glint dangerously.  _“We’re gonna do it so motherfucking hardcore!”_  Jean declared, and he dragged Marco off by the front of his shirt.

 

“Oh, you’re not going to walk after I finish with you,” Marco shouted, as he wrenched his shirt free. Jean snapped his hand around one of Marco’s wrists in response.

 

“I can’t fucking wait,” Jean said slowly, almost in a songlike manner.

 

“I mean it Jean,” Marco insisted. “We haven’t done the do in  _months.”_

 

Jean snorted as he dragged Marco by the wrist. “’Done the do’,” he said almost mockingly. “Your nerdy talk  _makes my dick so fucking hard!”_

 

Marco gasped as Jean yanked him around the corner. “Well  _good!_ Because I love it when you swear, Jean!”

 

_“Fan-fucking-tastic!”_

 

They continued to storm off, angrily and bitterly shouting about their love for one another. One could call this “romantic frustration.”

 

Or they could just call it odd. That works, too.


End file.
